“Weiwei, I heard grain prices have gone up?” Zhang Shuisheng appeared at the rice shop in the afternoon—a rare occurrence for him. Bare-chested and dripping with sweat, his voice carried through the doorway before he even stepped inside.
Everyone inside the shop froze for a split second. The clerks quickly recovered and resumed serving the customers, but the patrons were far more interested in hearing what Zhang Shuisheng had to say.
The manager behind the counter hurried out to greet him with an apologetic smile. “Shuisheng, what brings you here at this hour? Isn’t the oil pressing workshop keeping you busy?”
Though the two shops were right next door, the afternoons until closing were prime time for oil pressing at the workshop. Zhang Shuisheng almost never showed up anywhere else during those hours.
A fresh shipment of grain had arrived from Cangshi County that very morning. Wu Wei and Liu Cuiwei had been tallying it up since dawn, overseeing the workers as they hauled it to the backyard storehouse, weighed it, and logged it in the books.
Wu Wei and Liu Cuiwei exchanged a glance. “Third Sister, keep an eye on things here for a bit,” Wu Wei said. “I’ll go handle this.”
Guilt flickered in Liu Cuiwei’s heart, but with so many people around, she could only nod. She cast a distant glance at Zhang Shuisheng, wondering if he caught the meaningful look in her eyes.
In the end, Zhang Shuisheng was her own second brother-in-law by blood. Though he got along well with Wu Wei too, some things were better handled by her, the actual sister-in-law.
A few days earlier, Wu Wei had buckled under pressure from the other grain shop owners and decided to raise prices slightly on new rice and some coarser grains that weren’t staples. But she’d held firm against hiking prices on aged rice and the rough grains used for everyday meals, no matter the pressure. Liu Cuiwei knew all about the difficulties and frustrations involved. She just hadn’t found a moment amid the shop’s booming business to discuss it with her second sister’s family…
Who could have guessed that Zhang Shuisheng, blunt as a plowshare, would charge in at this delicate moment and blurt it out in front of everyone?
Zhang Shuisheng noticed all the customers’ eyes turning toward him. A sinking feeling hit him—“This isn’t good,” he thought—but the words were already out, like spilled water. He was trapped, unable to back down gracefully.
It wasn’t entirely his fault. Born a farmer, from generations of dirt-poor peasants who tilled the soil from dawn to dusk, his family’s survival had always hung on those few acres of land. Life was better now, but his heart remained that of a simple farmer. He knew better than anyone what an extra five coppers per dou of rice meant to struggling rural families.
In Zhang Shuisheng’s eyes, Wu Wei had always been a warm-hearted, kind soul. He couldn’t believe she’d exploit a natural disaster to squeeze blood money from hard-working farmers. The moment he heard the news, he’d rushed over, desperate to clear up any misunderstanding before it tarnished her reputation.
By the time Wu Wei reached him, she’d already clocked the discomfort on his face and understood everything. But now, all the rice-buying customers were clustering closer, clearly eager to hear what the shop owner had to say.
Wu Wei thought it over briefly, then decided to address the issue right there in the open. Even if Zhang Shuisheng hadn’t spoken up today, some hothead was bound to demand answers soon enough.
“Second Brother-in-law,” Wu Wei called out warmly, her face lit with a smile.
“I… I didn’t realize the shop would be so crowded right now,” Zhang Shuisheng muttered by way of explanation. The oil pressing workshop didn’t see a single customer at this hour.
“Second Brother-in-law, were you just asking why the grain prices went up?” Wu Wei repeated his question for everyone to hear.
Puzzled but compliant, Zhang Shuisheng nodded.
“Second Brother-in-law, take a look at A’quan,” Wu Wei said, gesturing with her hand. Everyone followed her pointing finger to a bearded man whose age was impossible to guess. He sat slumped against several sacks of grain, arms folded across his chest, fast asleep.
A little attention revealed the thunderous snores rumbling from him. People bustled past without waking him—he must have been utterly exhausted.
Wu Wei pressed on. “Second Brother-in-law, A’quan is one of our delivery men who stocks up on grain. He’s already overwhelmed handling it alone, so I hired a partner to alternate shifts with him. Even so, A’quan spends over twenty days a month on the road. He barely gets three days’ rest between trips before heading out again. Do you know why?”
“…The shop’s business is booming, and we’re running out of rice,” Zhang Shuisheng replied.
Wu Wei sighed. “Exactly. Not just here—grain’s in short supply across every shop in Taizhou City. We don’t produce it ourselves; we’re just middlemen buying low and selling high. Our sources are simple: either from local farmers or bulk buys from elsewhere. With everyone’s harvests short this year, who’s got surplus rice to sell us? My two delivery men are run ragged. Stocking up costs money, and with all the shops competing for supply, upstream prices have risen. Even bulk deals aren’t the bargains they used to be.”
After weighing her words carefully, Wu Wei decided not to elaborate further. Some truths were best left unsaid, lest they be twisted out of context. That could turn the other eight grain shops against her—and the townsfolk wouldn’t thank her for it either.
She didn’t even mention holding steady on aged rice and staple coarse grains. When you were outnumbered, it was smarter to do good deeds quietly.
“You’ve raised prices too much! Five coppers more per dou—how are ordinary folks supposed to live?” someone in the crowd piped up suddenly, tightening the atmosphere once more.
Cuiwei signaled the loaders to pause and hurried to Wu Wei’s side. But Wu Wei had already turned to the challenger with a smile. “Is our shop the only one in Taizhou City raising prices?”
The man’s eyes darted away. “How should I know? Your place is closest to home, and we’ve bought our rice here for years. It was never this much under the old owner!”
Liu Cuiwei stepped in front of Wu Wei. “The shop’s changed hands—new sign, new owner. Isn’t it a bit unfair to drag the previous proprietor into this?”
Wu Wei patted Liu Cuiwei’s hand, signaling her to stay calm, then picked up the thread. “Sir, as a longtime customer, you must know both our grain shop and the neighboring oil pressing workshop got new owners this year. I’m sure you can guess why. As I said, our supply lines are limited to farmers or out-of-town bulk buys. The previous owner here was getting on in years, just him and his small family running the place. Facing a poor harvest overall, with no way to travel for stock themselves, they decided to sell early. The old owner next door likely thought the same: bad yields could hurt business, so better to bow out while ahead. Last year was a bumper crop with perfect weather. This year, drought everywhere and universal shortfalls. If we’re being fair and honest, doesn’t comparing bountiful-year prices to famine-year ones go against your conscience?”
Everyone but the challenger nodded in agreement.
Liu Cuiwei couldn’t bear seeing Wu Wei subjected to this. She knew how much rice Wu Wei had covered out of pocket from her own funds—especially generous portions for customers who looked down on their luck. Those extras ate into the shop’s profits, all footed by Wu Wei personally.
Stepping forward, Liu Cuiwei addressed the crowd. “With so many grain shops in the city, you all choose Wu-Liu Store not just for the convenience. You know we run an honest business—no short weights or measures. Our grain’s quality ranks among the best. And we’ve only raised prices on new rice and a few coarse grains for brewing. Aged rice and staple coarse grains? Prices haven’t budged. Our consciences are clear!”
Seeing Liu Cuiwei defend her like a mother hen shielding her chicks, Wu Wei couldn’t help a faint smile. Third Sister was spot on, but plenty of folks here were still stewing. Wu Wei worried her words might be cherry-picked and twisted, inviting backlash. So she pulled Liu Cuiwei behind her and murmured, just loud enough for her ears, “Third Sister, I’ll explain later. Let me take the lead on this one.”
Liu Cuiwei nodded and fell silent behind her.
Wu Wei cupped her hands toward the crowd by way of apology. “Our family’s Third Sister is straightforward and speaks her mind too bluntly. I ask all of you to forgive her. The matter of rice prices isn’t something our Wu-Liu Store can control on our own, so please understand. That said, our two owners have heard your demands loud and clear. Here’s what we’ll do: starting tomorrow, Wu-Liu Store will set aside five shi of discounted rice each day—three shi of aged rice and two shi of new rice. We’ll price the new rice at the pre-increase rate, and drop the aged rice by another five wen per dou. One dou per household, until it’s sold out. I truly can’t offer any more than that. And I guarantee you, Wu-Liu Store will never be the priciest rice shop in Taizhou City. But… you had all better not get any funny ideas just because two women are holding this place together.”
Her words struck a balance of carrot and stick—first offering a substantial concession, then laying down the line in no uncertain terms. It wasn’t something anyone could easily reject.
…
Once the disturbance had been quelled, Wu Wei told Zhang Shuisheng to head home first; they would discuss everything over dinner that evening. She and Liu Cuiwei still needed to oversee the weighing and storage of the incoming rice.
Before Zhang Shuisheng could respond, a hand shot out from the side and pinched the soft flesh at his waist. He bared his teeth in pain but didn’t try to escape.
It was Second Lady Liu, arriving at the rice shop with Zhuzi in tow. She was, of course, the one doing the pinching.
“Why have I stopped hearing the sounds of the oil press? Get back home with me, now!”
Zhang Shuisheng gladly seized the excuse and hurried back to the Oil Pressing Workshop.
Second Lady Liu glanced back at Wu Wei and Liu Cuiwei with an apologetic look, then led Zhuzi away, muttering complaints under her breath as they returned to the Oil Pressing Workshop.
